Page 33 of An Earl's Christmas Seduction
She hoped she did not sound naïve, and perhaps the earl saw nothing more in what they had shared than a requited passion, and a pleasure between two people who perhaps would never find themselves together again. She hoped it was not the case, even as she now feared it could be. Nicholas sighed.
“It won’t be easy, I assure you. I’m not the easiest of men to get along with. They say I’m a recluse, an illegitimate son, a man with a false claim. You know the word they use. Would you want to be associated with such a man?” he asked, still planting kisses on her neck as he spoke.
But Amelia did not care about such things. If others wanted to call him such, so be it. But it made no difference to her.
“I don’t mind. They can say what they want about you. It doesn’t change how I feel,” she replied.
He cupped her chin in his hand, smiling at her, and she slipped her hands around his bare waist, drawing him into her embrace. She wanted only to be with him, and to share those same pleasures again. Nothing else mattered; certainly not the opinions of others.
“Those words prove everything I suspected of you, Amelia. You’re selfless, but I wouldn’t want you to be hurt on my account,” he said, even as Amelia shook her head, as Nicholas looked up at her.
“I know what it’s like to be hurt in love. I’ve lost, but I’ve survived. I might be naïve in some matters, but in others, I’m not. I know what it would mean to some, to my own mother. But I know how I feel. I know the feelings in my heart. I’m certainly not naïve in that,” she said, and Nicholas smiled.
“You’re a remarkable woman, Amelia. I feel as though we’ve known one another for years; not a mere few days,” he said, and Amelia smiled.
“I feel the same,” she said, and their lips met in another kiss.
But as they did so, a knock came at the door, and the voice of Harry echoed from the corridor.
“Nicholas? Are you in there? Everyone’s waiting for you,” he tried out, trying the door handle.
Mercifully, Nicholas had slid the bolt across the door, and the handle failed to give way, even as Harry knocked again. Amelia hurriedly pulled on her dress, and Nicholas did the same with his breeches, pointing Amelia towards the long curtains hanging down from the window.
“Yes. I was just dozing. I was tired after last night. Wait a moment,” Nicholas called back, hurriedly pulling on his shirt.
Without Elsie’s assistance, Amelia was finding it difficult to put her dress back on, and pulling up the shoulders, she wrapped her shawl around her to keep the dress in place, before hurrying to hide behind the curtain, breathless, even as there was something rather exciting about almost being caught.
She pulled the curtain around her, but not before she noticed a stocking lying on the floor by the bookshelf. There was no time to retrieve it, because Nicholas was already at the door, straightening his necktie, before opening it to his visitor.
“Oh, there you are. They’re all asking for you. What are you doing in here? You should be playing the host. Most of them have been out in the grounds, but it’s almost time for luncheon. What’s wrong with you? You look flustered,” Harry said, and Amelia held her breath, trying not to laugh as she stood rigid behind the curtain, fearing the errant stocking would give her away.
“Flustered? No, not at all. I’m quite all right. Really, it’s nothing. I’ll come now. We don’t want to keep the guests waiting, do we?” Nicholas said.
“Have you thought anymore about what I said? About the folly of it all? I just don’t think we’re going to discover the truth, do you?” Harry asked.
“Oh, I think we will. Just give it time. But come along, we’d better see to the guests,” Nicholas said, and Amelia breathed a sigh of relief as the sound of their voices disappeared off down the corridor.
She peered cautiously around the curtain, making sure she would not be seen, before darting forward and snatching the stocking from the floor.
A shiver of delight ran through her as she thought back to what they had shared, and she smiled to herself, still feeling as though Nicholas’ arms were around her, his lips pressed against hers. For a moment, she paused, closed her eyes, and caught up in the fantasy of what was to come; of what she hoped was to come.
“But will it?”she asked herself, as she left the library, being careful not to be caught as she made her way back to the drawing room and the company of the other guests, pausing outside the door to adjust her dress, hoping she would not look disheveled as she entered the room.
For all she knew it had been a passing moment of pleasure, one perhaps to be repeated, but with no prospect of anything more. But as she rejoined the others, catching Nicholas’ eye as she did so and smiling, Amelia could only hope for something more. She wanted the seed of romance and passion having firmly been planted.
Chapter 11
“Fifteen,” Edmund exclaimed, counting his raisins triumphantly.
Isobel laughed, sitting back and shaking her head.
“I only managed eight. It hurts,” she said, and Clara rolled her eyes.
“That’s the point. It’s a game of snapdragon. You have to be bold. How many have you got, Amelia?” she asked, peering across the now still bowl, where the last few raisins floated in the brandy.
Amelia counted, but she only had ten, and Edmund claimed victory for himself. The evening had passed pleasantly.
They had dined in a similar style to the previous evening, helping themselves from hot and cold dishes on the sideboard, before returning to the drawing room, where the yule log was burning merrily. Mrs. Bennett had played the pianoforte, and the viscount had sung. There had been a merry atmosphere, even as Constance had attempted to sour it with her remarks concerning frivolity.
